


Matched Pair

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [68]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 16:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17083874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: When Jared gets home, Bryce is grumpy about the loss, scowling and muttering and then, once they get into bed, legit pouting at the ceiling. Jared rolls close, as close as he can get, mumbles “Vancouver tomorrow,” just because he knows it’ll make Bryce smile.It does.





	Matched Pair

Jared spends Christmas Eve…eve at his parents’, as per terms of his release to Vancouver, and they watch the Flames and exchange presents. It’s not quite the usual Christmas tradition, but then, the Flames don’t play on Christmas, so while there’s sitting by the tree, and Erin playing Santa — she’s much grumpier about it now, but it’s been a tradition since she could read the names on the labels, so present distributor she remains — there is also Jared and his dad swearing at the TV when the Kings score their third, until both mom and Erin threaten to turn it off.

“Excuse me, my boyfriend,” Jared says.

“Yeah,” says his dad, the opportunist. “His boyfriend.” There isn’t even a shudder or anything as he says it.

They do the actual present exchange during intermission. His mom turns the TV off first, so Jared’s brain starts ticking down that eighteen minute timer. Erin gets him Oilers socks and PJ bottoms, and Jared’s rethinking giving her anything now, but he reluctantly hands over the envelope under his mom’s sharp eye.

“It just says ‘my TV’,” Erin says blankly.

“Yeah,” Jared says. “I am officially giving you my TV.”

“I already _have_ your TV,” Erin complains. “And you can’t take it back, you just made a gazillion bucks.”

“I’m not taking it back,” Jared says. “Thus the whole present aspect.”

“That is the dumbest present ever—” Erin says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jared says, and tosses her a gift card for Hot Topic too. 

“This better not be like, twenty bucks, I know what you made,” Erin says.

“Mom and dad didn’t raise you to be so materialistic,” Jared says.

“Mom,” Erin complains.

“Well,” his mom says. “We didn’t.”

“But he’s being a condescending jerk about it,” Erin says.

“Well,” his mom says. “That’s true too.”

“Mom!” Jared says. “Christmas spirit!”

“It’s not even Christmas Eve yet,” his mom says. “Someone wanted to get a jumpstart on things before getting out of dodge.”

“I said I was sorry,” Jared mutters.

“You didn’t, actually,” his mom says, then, before Jared can open his mouth, “I don’t actually want you to be sorry, hon, you’d think you’d be used to chirping by now.”

“Not from my _mother_ ,” Jared says. 

“Can I get in on it then?” his dad asks.

“Pfft,” Jared says. “You can’t chirp, so it’s not even an issue.”

“I can so!” his dad counters.

“Oh, Don, no,” his mom says.

“Your momma’s so—”

“Do you want to die?” Jared asks, appalled. His momma’s sitting _right there_. 

“Don,” his mom says. “Those jokes were old ten years ago.”

“They’re classics,” his dad says, and then, and Jared is not exaggerating here — dramatically sulks. It takes Jared handing over his present for him — a bunch of high quality knives since he complains about the ones they have every time he cooks — for the sulk to dissipate. His mom likes the necklace he gives her, though she seems to like the pasta maker he bought them on a whim — Mathesons eat a _lot_ of pasta — even more. Jared mentally pats himself on the back, and very quickly opens the present from his parents — a new coat, and admittedly his old parka is getting a bit raggedy and sad, more grey than blue — and turns the TV back on just in time for the start of the third.

There’s some more swearing at the Kings after that, and when Jared gets home, Bryce is grumpy about the loss, scowling and muttering and then, once they get into bed, legit pouting at the ceiling. Jared rolls close, as close as he can get, mumbles “Vancouver tomorrow,” just because he knows it’ll make Bryce smile. 

It does.

Jared feels like he’s barely fallen asleep before they’re waking up to an alarm, the painfully shrill one Bryce sets when he has an especially early wake-up or something he can’t be late to, like, oh, an airport. This is both, Jared guesses. 

Bryce checks not one, but two freaking suitcases — Jared, a duffel over his shoulder, is silently and sleepily judging him — and airport security’s a mess, but they get through eventually. Jared was kind of wondering if Bryce would like, sit apart from him, or want to go up to the gate at different times or something, considering at an airport he’s not only likely to be recognised, but people will be sitting around long enough that they might get over any shyness about coming over, or just do it to break up the tedium or something. Bryce doesn’t though, sits right beside him, and they’re not holding hands or anything, not even talking much, Bryce already flipping through one of the hockey magazines he got for the plane, bleary eyed even after Starbucks, but it’s still a far cry from Bryce when Jared met the Flames.

No one approaches them before the flight. Jared doesn’t know if Bryce’s toque worked really well as camouflage, no one going to Vancouver is a Flames fan, or if people just went ‘hey, maybe don’t go up to Bryce Marcus early in the morning when he’s just trying to get home’, but whatever the reason, Jared appreciates it. He didn’t really want to know if Bryce would pretend they weren’t travelling together, or introduce him, and like, would that introduction be a lie, saying Jared’s his cousin or something, or a vague ‘friends’, or —

Jared’s just glad no one approaches them.

*

Elaine’s waiting at the airport when they arrive, gives Bryce a hug long enough that Jared gets kind of fidgety, like he’s getting it secondhand, and then gives Jared a thankfully shorter one. Jared likes Elaine a lot, but he’d have been desperately patting her back five seconds in.

Elaine peppers them with questions — how was the flight? Did they have anything to eat? Do they want coffee? Why on earth do you need two suitcases, Bear? — on the way to the parking lot, stops at a Tims drive-thru despite their protests that they are perfectly fine, going all steely eyed until Jared caves and orders a steeped tea, because he honestly could use one. Bryce gets a cruller, which he definitely doesn’t need, but he seems content about it, a wide smile on his face along with some icing sugar at the corner of his mouth after he’s finished. Jared wants to smudge it away with his thumb, but he gestures at it instead, Bryce licking the seam of his lips until it’s gone.

Elaine and Bryce both give him a tour of her house. Jared doesn’t know all that much about houses, but it’s a nice one, looks lived in, not just like someone lives there, but loves it, all cheerful art on the walls — Jared smirks at the sunflowers in the kitchen — and bright cushions, blankets everywhere you might need one, and places you don’t. Elaine peels off when Bryce gives Jared a tour of his room, which is, well —

“You’ve got Canucks stuff,” Jared says, appalled. He’s also got an old, battered Winnie the Pooh sitting on a book shelf — there aren’t actually many books on the shelves, just trophies and medals — but that surprises Jared less than the fact his childhood bedroom, one he still sleeps in when he visits, is littered with swag for a divisional rival. 

“I couldn’t just throw it out,” Bryce says, shifting awkwardly. “Some of it’s signed. You can’t throw that out.”

“I’m sending a picture to Chaz,” Jared says, pulling his phone out, and Bryce wrestles him for it until they hit the bed, which creaks ominously under them, before holding it up, victorious.

“You’ve got Flames stuff in your apartment anyway,” Bryce says, all ‘so there’.

“Uh yeah, because my boyfriend plays for them,” Jared says. “And I’m not actually on the Oilers roster yet.”

“Still a traitor,” Bryce says.

“Okay, the second I make the Oilers I’ll throw out all your Flames stuff,” Jared says, laughing at Bryce’s comically appalled face, then realising he’s got himself an opportunity, reaching for his phone with what little leverage he has, pinned by the weight of Bryce across his hips. Bryce holds it up infuriatingly out of reach, and Jared braces himself against the mattress, tries to buck him off, bed frame groaning again.

“Don’t break the bed,” Elaine calls up at them, and Jared freezes in mortification, because it probably sounds less like — well, he knows what people associate with a bed creaking. Bryce is pretty pink himself, and he gets off Jared, hands his phone back, hands going to smooth his hair like he’s worried it’s out of place, which it isn’t.

“I’ll uh,” Bryce says. “Want a tour of the neighbourhood?” 

“That sounds great,” Jared says. He’ll send Chaz pictures later.

Bryce has a Vancouver car, and Jared knew that, but he really didn’t — who needs _three cars_? Bryce Marcus, everyone. It’s not as flashy as the convertible — Jared doubts even Bryce would attempt a convertible in a city that rains literally every other day — but still kind of fancy, especially since he doesn’t exactly spend a lot of time there. But then, to be fair, that’s kind of on Jared, because he knows Bryce went home every offseason to train until they started dating, so there are no chirps exiting his mouth today, no sir.

The streets are pretty dead, no surprise, and Bryce takes it surprisingly slowly as he gives Jared an annotated tour of Richmond, all, ‘my grandparents’ place, my grandma moved to an apartment after my grandpa died’ and ‘my high school — before I went to Spokane, obviously’ and, absurdly ‘Dairy Queen!’. Not like ‘this is the Dairy Queen I hung out with friends at’ or ‘this is the Dairy Queen my grandparents took me all the time’ or something, just Bryce delighted by ice cream.

Jared leans down to kiss Bryce’s shoulder, and he probably can’t even feel it through his coat, but he beams at Jared anyway.

“We’re having an early dinner if that’s okay,” Elaine says when they get back, and dinner’s just hanging out in the living room, drinking white wine spritzers — Jared finds he likes that a whole lot more than beer or gin and tonic, and more than normal white wine, lighter — and eating Chinese Elaine had delivered, and it’s — a lot different than Christmas Eve would be if Jared was at home, but he likes it, Bryce a warm line against him on the couch, Elaine grilling them about the past few months, which Jared is pretty sure is for his sake, because Bryce talks to her like, every day, so she probably knows all this stuff already: definitely the stuff about Bryce, and probably a lot of the stuff about Jared too. 

Jared’s a little tipsy after a few spritzers, because he drank them a lot faster than he usually would, used to nursing a beer for a literal hour, but it’s not like — he’s just tipsy enough that he leans in when Bryce wraps an arm around his shoulder after Elaine disappears to get something, leans into him more, even though she could come back any second, smiling when Bryce kisses his hair.

Not tipsy enough not to have a foreboding feeling when Elaine comes out of her room with a bundle of fabric patterned with snowflakes in her arms, because he suddenly remembers the picture Bryce sent him last Christmas, him and his mom on Christmas morning in matching PJs.

He hopes it’s two pairs. He really hopes it’s only—

“I got a pair for you too, Jared,” Elaine says.

Jared is not putting on matching PJs. He doesn’t even _wear_ pyjamas, he’s not —

“You’re putting the PJs on,” Elaine says firmly, apparently perfectly able to read his face.

Jared finds himself in the bathroom, putting on matching PJs and questioning every moment that lead up to this. He looks like a complete tool. Bryce grins wide as anything when he comes out in them. Bryce kind of looks like a tool too, but a cute one. Elaine somehow makes them look stylish.

“I want a picture of you two,” Elaine says.

“Mom,” Bryce says. “Summers said—”

Yeah, Greg probably wouldn’t appreciate it either.

“I’m not going to put it online, Bear,” Elaine says. 

“But if there’s a hack—” Bryce says.

“If someone hacks your mom’s phone looking for dirt on you?” Elaine asks sceptically, and, well. She’s got a point.

She totally stage directs them, makes sure they’re sitting straight and the PJs are properly displayed, all bossy about it, and Jared thinks it’s kind of adorable, or would be if she wasn’t intent on capturing his lack of dignity.

“Not going online?” Bryce says, when Elaine finally deems them acceptable. 

“Of course not,” Elaine says.

“And you won’t show anyone?” Bryce asks.

“It’s just for me, Bryce,” Elaine says. 

Bryce turns his head to kiss his cheek, and Jared needs Elaine to immediately delete the photo she just took, because he is probably _crimson_.

“Aww,” Elaine says, from behind her phone. “Hold that pose. And _smile_ , Jared.”

He can feel Bryce’s mouth quirk against his skin, like he’s following the direction meant for Jared, and Jared — Jared _really_ needs her to delete like, every single picture she just took because Jared probably looks like a completely lovestruck fool in all of them. Which like, he is, but no one needs to _see_ that.

“Perfect,” Elaine says, then, “I can send this to your parents if you want, Jared.”

His dad will probably grunt at the temerity of Bryce, kissing his son in front of _people_ , even if the ‘people’ is just Elaine, and his mom will never, ever let him live the matching PJs or the blush down. Not a chance in hell.

“That’s okay, Elaine,” Jared says weakly.

It’s still early when everyone goes to bed, Bryce and Jared an hour ahead, and Jared, for one, sleepy from a little more wine than he’s used to. Not Christmas yet when Bryce and Jared crawl into his bed in their matching PJs — they both usually sleep in their underwear, but what if Elaine comes in to wake them tomorrow? Matching PJs like weirdo couple it is — not even in Calgary. 

Bryce’s bed isn’t really big enough for both of them — it’s a double, but they’re not small, and Jared’s used to Bryce’s king, cuddling by choice rather than necessity, but he doesn’t want to sleep on a couch or anything, and obviously Elaine knows — well, it’s embarrassing to think of parents knowing, but they, you know, live together, so obviously she knows they share a bed. 

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Bryce murmurs, breath hot against the back of Jared’s neck, and Jared reaches back to squeeze his arm in a silent ‘me too’.


End file.
